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RPlog:Surfing on Caspar
Hideaway Beach - Plaxton City Surging whitecaps paint themselves onto the powderlike, white sands of this sliver of beachfront, tucked between the two massive bluffs that encircle Plaxton City. The waves have eaten into several places on the shore, forming rocky outcroppings and small coves, but one long strip is laden with pristine, whispy sand. A few Pula trees jut out, throwing their branches toward the tides. Bright, lusterous leaves fill the branches, offering shade for the ground below. A few hundred meters from shore, a jagged pebble of an island stands defiantly in the surf, holding up an old, unused lighthouse. The night sky above is filled with thick gray clouds that obscure the sun. It actually takes Jessalyn less than half an hour to go back to the hotel, change clothes, and catch a beachgoing shuttle down to the shoreline to the place she had agreed to meet Orson. She follows the crowd down onto the beach, clad in a loose robe tied around her waist and falling just to the top of her knees, and carrying a bag of beach necessities in one hand. As she walks awkwardly over the sand, her long legs are exposed, and she holds her arms out to the side to keep her balance, squinting against the sun in search of Orson. She knows he is nearby, but the press of the crowds keep her from spotting him. So she puts one hand on her hip and stops on top of a tall dune, scanning the beach. Near the waterline, Orson is crouching near a pair of repulsorboards, working on the surface of Jessalyn's with some sort of small object. His older board, a custom job, lies in the sand beside him. Much like the Uwannabuyim, it appears to have been extensively reworked, but is probably an older model. Occasionally he stands, putting a hand to his brow and taking in the horizon with a long squint. Suddenly, the man turns and spots his consort coming. He's clad in a pair of wetsuit shorts, protective duraprene pants black with a green strip coming to just above his knee. Other than that, he wears a simple gray bracelet of metal on one arm and his own decent tan. "I hope you brought sunscreen, Jessalyn," Orson whispers to himself, waving at her from afar. Finally spotting him, Jessalyn gives a little excited hop and starts to run leisurely over the beach in his direction. "Hi!" she calls out when she gets close, then pauses to pick out a dry spot in the sand to put her things. She spreads out a blanket, weighing it down with the bag itself, then rummages around until she comes up with a small plastic tube of something. Standing back up, she unties the sash and slips off the robe, letting it fall down along the length of her leg and tossing it onto the top of the bag with a graceful flick of her foot. She's wearing a simple but flattering swimsuit underneath, dark green and made of a similar shiny fabric as Orson's wetsuit. A band of gold runs around the straps and into the plunging neckline, but otherwise there's not much decorative revealed in its design. What it reveals of her, of course, is another story. Securing her hair into a loose tail behind her head, she turns and closes the rest of the distance to Orson, grinning and holding out the tube of sunscreen to him. "And you get to put it on me," she says with a wink, turning her back and holding up the loose tendrils of her hair so he can have better access to her bare back. Orson grins, showing no hesitation at checking her out in detail. "Goodness," the man offers, congratulating the woman on her superior figure. And congratulating himself on having her, just a little. Scooping up the sunscreen, he squirts a pile into his hands and starts working it into Jessalyn's neck and shoulders, working methodically down her back. Wiping the excess off on the top of her arms, he finally turns her around and dabs just a little on the woman's cheeks. When he starts talking, he's already looking to the water and using a different voice than he normally does. "You're no typical honey, so I'll give you the basics quick and then we'll work on some specifics once we get up and running. We're getting some decent swells, but the line-up's full of hodads, so we'll run deep. Once we get out there it'll move pretty fast." Popping the top back on the sunscreen, he flicks it perfectly to their distant towel. "You'll do great," he assures her with a grin, giving her another subtle up and down look. Jessa spends a moment rubbing in some of the sunscreen on her arms as she listens to him give the rundown, pretending to know what Orson's talking about with the vague nod of her head. When his gaze turns to appraise her, she rolls her eyes upward, embarrassed, and flushing pink. "We'll see," she says, pursing her lips playfully and walking over to the board he ordered for her, standing it up on one end. It's a lot taller than she had thought. She gives Orson an intent look, then glances toward the ocean, a little uncertain. "All right... I'm ready," she announces. Orson reaches forward and touches the top of his board with just a toe. With a shiver, it lifts from the sand by itself, almost silent repulsors making it bob quietly over the beach. "Okay," he turns, showing her some spots on the board. "I've waxed your board already. Old style. There are three sensor fields on top of the board, they read your foot position and the distribution of your weight to control forward motion and inertial compensation. In other words, lean forward and you can get it going really ..." He finds the woman's gaze, nodding seriously. "Really fast. It'll bank as far as you want to go too, so you'll have to be careful with that. Just keep your balance on the way out. You'll get a feel for it as we go over the channel." He points to a strip of deep green in the ocean, far past the other surfers. "I'll be here, if you need help." Orson was going to mention that she can just call out for him if she needs anything, but that wouldn't really be necessary. He puts one foot on the board, and it skates forward quickly, skidding toward the ocean but slicing through the oncoming wake without hesitation. "And if you get in trouble," he says over his shoulder, "Just fall off!" With a huge grin as he's back in the water, he puts his hand to his mouth and tosses the woman a happy kiss. This was exactly the kind of thing that would have terrified Jessalyn six years ago. But after all that she's been through, a little water and the rush of air over the ocean, even if it's perched precariously on a thin layer of repulsorboard, seems like nothing to be afraid of at all. Still, she gingerly tests her weight on the board once she sets it down in what seems to be an appropriate spot, and finds herself flying over the water after Orson seconds later. It's easy enough to get this part down, she thinks to herself, letting the board guide her movements as she learns how to keep her balance. With her knees slightly bent, and arms held outward, she lifts her head and looks out towards Orson, grinning and giving him a reassuring wave. Rocking his weight backwards, Orson's board slows, the nose lifting out of the water. He whips it around easily, bobbing in the air as swells rush past underneath him and eventually lift, curling into thin waves. "Hi there," Orson says in a low stance, already admiring Jessalyn's ability as she nears him. "You're doing great. Okay," Orson says, waving a hand at a portion of now-distant beach. "The best surfers are the ones that can read the waves, you see. You just have to -feel- the swell. That one ... there, would have been a good one." He points at the backside of a wave that has almost run its course. A long hollow tube is formed by its upper lip. "Just get ahead of it before it collapses. When you get shallow, come on back and we'll do it again." The spray of the water is cool on her face as Jessalyn rides the board up to Orson. She stays crouched, wary of giving up the position that has served her well so far, and eyes the wave that goes crashing past them. "All right," she says, swallowing a childhood fear of drowning. She decides to wait for now, wanting to see Orson do it first, and presses her weight into the board to send it flying further out, skidding across the top of the clear blue water before she banks it to the side and comes back around to watch. If it wouldn't kill them both, Orson would leap to her board and scoop her up right there, the hesitation in her mind obvious even on her expression. It's sweet, he decides, fully confident that the Jedi will have no difficulty at all. She could probably do it without a board, even. As he leans forward, he takes a steadying breath, eager to test himself. His last surf on Corellia was incredible -- he was doing moves he hadn't tried in years. This ... well, it's too late for thinking now. Leaving a white trail of foamy sizzle, Orson is leaning forward, taking a half-step toward the board's nose, hands trailing behind him. He catches a swell and banks sideways, dragging through it slowly, waiting for it to become a wave. Time slows. The low growl of the ocean curling a nice wave up behind him fills the man's ears. He lifts and looks like he's about to fall, but is executing a slow three-sixty, and now pours on the speed, slicing the wave where it hurts. As the hollow begins to fall in on itself, the Jedi student drags his fingers through the water wall that is beside him. With a yelp and a nice exit, he dips his head sideways, wetting only his hair. Orson has outpaced the wave completely, and is still standing. Without any visible celebration, he turns back toward Jessalyn and starts the slow ride back. She can't help but clap her hands together as she watches him execute the ride perfectly, grinning in Orson's direction. "Wonderful!" she calls out, knowing he'll pick up the sentiment even if he can't hear her at this distance. Then the young woman closes her eyes, relying on the Force as she tries to pick up the next swell. Without much effort or waiting, her board is skimming the surface of the newborn wave as she emulates Orson's moves. Adrenaline pumps through her as her heart pounds, the wall of water forming at the exact instant she cuts the repulsorboard sidewise, and she has to close her eyes, overwhelmed at her own skill. It seems incredible that she could be doing such a thing. Still, she's seen stranger things lately, and a grin creeps across her face as the wave curls tighter, and she hunkers down, coming smoothly out the other side when the water goes crashing in on itself. When she's well clear, Jessalyn straightens up and looks back where she had just been, shaking her head and laughing with excitement as she bears down on the board, racing back out after Orson. "I did it!" she calls out giddily to him. Orson is not so far away, having hung a little closer to watch and assist the new surfer if she needed it. The man waves an arm in the air, wearing a huge grin. Water streaming from his hair into his face, he makes all sorts of celebration noises. "Great!" he calls out. "Now for some tricks!" In a moment, he has moved back out to beyond the channel. The next swell has Orson's name on it, and he jumps to the front of the board. It fishtails as it rockets toward the shore. Curling his toes around the board's nose, he catches a wave but easily outpaces it and flies over the next one. Banking to one side, the board slows itself artificially, and a new wall of water lifts from the ocean as he skids sideways. For a finale, he plants a hand and kicks both feet into the air briefly. Time for a swim, he decides, and launches from the handstand into the ocean. With no rider, the board simply circles around. In another minute, he's back aboard and on his way back to Jessalyn. She waits for him to reach her, slowing down the board to a natural speed, and then straddling it as she paddles with her hands very slowly towards shore with no intention of reaching there. "That was amazing!" she laughs, noticing a small crowd of onlookers gathered to watch the spectacle on the beach. Jessa's eyes dance with a myriad of emotions that she showers Orson with as he arrives, her adoration chief among them. "I don't think I'm up for anything that fancy!" Orson gives a hearty laugh to Jessalyn across the water, waves slapping at the nose of the board as he moves toward her. He is a different creature in the water, really. Many good memories were there, and present difficulties seemed to disappear in the face of a thundering wave. "Maybe a couple more, then we go back to the room? I hate to not stay there, if we're paying the money for it." A good-natured wink indicates that this has nothing to do with his intentions to get back. A little thrill of excitement goes through her, and Jessalyn blows him a kiss as she hops back up on the board, long sleek legs achieving a perfect balance instantly, The bright afternoon sun casts gold highlights off her dark red hair and shines off her pale, damp flesh. "That sounds like an excellent plan," she approves, revving the repulsorboard, and scooting off at breakneck speed to catch the next monstrous swell of water. Surfing on Caspar